Saker man inte hör så ofta;

"Ja, du är ju i fertil ålder så det bör du nog inte göra."

Varför jag är kung

Ibland när jag tänker att jag borde färga håret så brukar Nina Persson dyka upp i mitt huvud. Jag tror det kan ha varit när The Cardigans släppte låten ”I need some fine wine and you, you need to be nicer” som Nina i en intervju blev ombedd att säga något till sina fans och hon tittade på mig genom tv-skärmen och sa typ: ”Du har bara ett hår. Jag ångrar att jag förstörde mitt.”

Jag kan ju självklart ha drömt detta. Jag har nämligen, inte bara tack vare mina nuvarande psykologistudier, insett att jag har något av en ”fantasy-prone personality”. Sådana människor har en tendens att frammana livliga dagdrömmar och leva i fantasivärldar där allt är underbart. Hur som. Nina hade ju inte ens rätt. Håret växer hela tiden. Men det här kan jag ju såklart inte ta upp med henne personligen, eftersom jag mycket sannolikt har fantiserat ihop detta uttalande alldeles själv, som en ursäkt att slippa förändra mig. Och jag menar, jag har inte ens följt hennes råd. Blondsprej, över och ut.

My kin. My blood. My white trash family.

I don't see them very often. Once or twice a year, at most. They hold somewhat of a mythical position in my family. In so many senses. But this weekend, my white trash relatives were under some kind of murder threat and had to relocate, until social services could arrange a temporary housing. So, in lack of other acquaintances, they stayed at our house. And, for some reason, I felt the need to stay at our house too, even if I have my own place, nowadays. I couldn't miss this. Not for the world.

So there we were, the five of us, plus ten (10) extra people in the household. There were mullets, there were visible buttcracks, there were babies, there was teenage mother, there were cousins, there were strangers, there were cigarettes, there were large amounts of coca cola, there was uncommunicativeness, there were sisterly childhood issues and there were different notions of the importance of personal space.

At the same time, I tried working on my essay, reading Foucault, thinking about society, and normativity. Also, I read about the modern human being and its ability to reflect upon its own situation and place in the world.

White trash is not "the norm". Being white trash could thus function as a sort of resistance against the power of normativity. (And I can sense that resistance!) That ought to make white trash cool. Resistance of power is cool, no? However, at the same time, you're only truly white trash as long as you do not reflect too much on yourself or your situation. Or anything. This produces a relatively dull person, which couldn't really constitute as modern. And if you're not modern, you can't be cool. Or...?

Anyway, to sum up, I've decided not to convert to white trash. Not for now. But it's been a memorable weekend. I love my aunt but, damn it, she derides people, and me, I really try not to.


But I just did.

Shit.